


In Which Loki Attends a Party

by Trompe lOeil (Trompe_lOeil)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Consent, Formalwear, M/M, Magic, Mischief, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trompe_lOeil/pseuds/Trompe%20lOeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki attends a party of Tony's and it goes horribly, wonderfully, sexily wrong.</p>
<p>Inspired by the image of a horrified Tony yelling, "You are a good person and people say nice things about you!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Loki Attends a Party

It would, of course, happen that when everything went wrong, it went wrong at a party.

Loki Laufeyson was not entirely sure why he decided to attend this party of Tony Stark’s. And as a man - well, god - who prided himself on the prudence of his decisions, he was even less sure why he did not leave when Tony Stark actually showed up to his own party. As it stood, one Iron Man was not enough to deter the God of Mischief from some much-needed amusement.

The Trickster God was, simply put, bored. Dabbling in magic only held amusement for so long, and that silver tongue of his grew rusty with disuse after so many months left without an opponent with whom to match wits. 

And he’d a trick he’d been meaning to try. A spell, of sorts, that would affect the behaviour of the guests at the party. 

First, though, to ensure that he had a spectator. Loki Laufeyson was no stranger to laughing at his own jokes, but where was the fun of wreaking mild havoc if there was no-one to witness just how clever he was being?

Tony Stark was bored out of his skull. The scotch was, for once, no help whatsoever. And there were only so many expensively-dressed people he could pretend to know. 

So needless to say, he was irritated and terrified when a voice in his ear caused him to nearly jump out of his skin.

“One would hardly expect you to attend an event such as this, Anthony Stark.”

Tony whirled around to find himself, well staring somewhere between the immaculate grey lapel of the suit and a smirk of a man altogether too pleased with himself. He adjusted. Now he found himself face to face with Loki, looking every inch the beautiful, smug bastard he’d been three months ago.

Several responses sprang to mind - all of them pithy and biting, of course - but what Tony found himself saying, stunningly casually, was, “What, my own party? This is my house. I live here.”

Loki Laufeyson chuckled. “Perhaps. But these self-serving aristocrats do not know who you are, Iron Man.” He said the last two words like he was humouring Tony, using his favourite nickname.

“And you do?” Tony was one step away from either calling security or punching Loki in the face. He couldn’t decide which would be more amusing, so for the moment, he did neither.

Loki turned to look over the crowd of guests. They were standing fairly off to one side, near enough to the bar to keep Tony from feeling too uncomfortable, and far enough from anyone to arouse any comment.

“For all their charm and poise, they do hate each other, do they not?” the god mused.

Tony blinked at him. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t really- what the hell are you doing here?”

Infuriatingly, Loki only chuckled again. “I would have a witness.”

Tony gaped. “Look, I know I’m wearing the wrong suit for this, but if you so much as get glittery on me, magic boy, I will kick your ass from here to Tuesday.”

“I would rather you did not,” Loki drawled, raising a hand to smooth the emerald silk of his own tie. “It is an excellent suit.”

Something washed over the crowd, subtle enough that you had to be looking to really tell, a spell that felt green and bathed everything in a light that was, bizarrely, flattering. Suddenly a sense of well-being coated the room, a tide of peace and honesty and fraternal love.

It was pretty much the weirdest thing Tony had ever seen.

It took him a minute to figure out what was going on. He watched a couple talk to one another. They were older, clearly married, clearly unhappy about it. The man leaned in to say something to his wife - whatever it was, it wasn’t meant to be kind - but she only beamed and pecked him on the cheek. He frowned and opened and closed his mouth a few times, confused.

And that couple weren’t the only ones. All over the room, people were doing nice things, pulling out chairs for other people, complimenting each other, exchanging secrets. Had - had Loki, God of Lies, made everyone at the party like each other?

A man went to punch another guy and ended up sweeping him into a bear hug.

Tony was pretty sure a few people were having sex in the corner.

He grabbed Loki by the shoulder and spun him around. “What the hell did you do? They’re - they’re being nice to each other.”

Funny, it didn’t sound like such a bad thing when he said it aloud.

Loki’s eyes twinkled. “Are they? I did not notice.”

He moved to stand behind Tony, watching the crowd with eyes that were both predatory and satisfied. He murmured in Tony’s ear as he watched. “It is extraordinary, what happens to people when their words are taken away.”

Someone fired a gun. Some people ran away. Others cheered.

Tony stood silent for a minute, already dreading the phone call he’d get from Pepper about this. 

“You crashed my party, and I’m pretty sure you’ve just ruined what was shaping up to be an entirely mediocre night.”

Loki’s laugh was a soft exhale over his ear, oddly cool as he leant closer and breathed, “Then I take it you will be leaving?

Tony nodded.

“Allow me.”

There was a hand on his elbow, surprisingly light, and then he was forcibly pulled into some sort of state that was swirling and dark and green and not right, and then he was standing in his living room.

He yanked his arm out of the other man’s grip and promptly fell over.

Getting to his feet with all the grace of a highly ruffled, if still expensively-suited, Tony Stark, he glowered at Loki. “What the hell was that?! I have a driver, you know. And you don’t just go running around teleporting guys against their will, that’s pretty much the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen-”

Loki crossed his arms, leveling him with a look and a raised eyebrow. “I was given to understand that you were finished with the party. Forgive me my grave mistake.” 

If there was sincerity in that statement, it was entirely false.

“You bastard! Get your suit and that smug look out of my house before I-”

“What, Anthony? Throw me out the window?”

“I- you- you are a good person and people say nice things about you!” Tony shouted. His mouth stood open for a long moment before he promptly shut it.

“Why, Anthony. I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” It was all Loki could do to keep from laughing, and he was a master of manipulating his own emotions.

Tony only glowered. “And would you stop calling my Anthony? It’s kind of cute. I like it.”

There was no denying it. No matter what Stark was actually intending to say, anything he said ended a compliment. It seemed that removal from the focus site of the spell had caused a delay in the spell’s effects, but Anthony was under its full snare now.

And how amusing it was.

“Please stay as long as you like!” Tony shook his head as if to clear it from the spell. “Make yourself at home! We should be friends!”

Loki stepped closer to Anthony. Furious as the man clearly was, the God of Mischief highly doubted that the man would actually be able to harm him. He couldn’t even insult him, after all. “It seems that shouting at me is doing you little good, Son of Stark,” he said, looking down at him. “Perhaps you should try a different tack.”

A thoughtful look crossed Tony’s face, and then, suddenly, coming to a decision, Tony grabbed Loki by the tie and kissed him, hard.

There was no romance in it, no seduction, just Tony’s lips pressing into his, forceful. As soon as Loki realised what was happening and moved to kiss him back, it was over. Tony paused to nip at Loki’s bottom lip for a moment, leaving feeling of Tony’s teeth on his skin as the smaller man pulled away.

Well, this was new.

It seemed that not only had Anthony’s tongue betrayed him, but his body was betraying him as well. Loki was not one to complain - Tony’s fingers began to work on his tie, loosening it, yanking it over his head, distracting him to no end. But if any seduction of Tony Stark was to happen this night, it was to be on Loki’s terms. Not a by-product of some spell that had had unintentional side effects.

Loki grabbed Tony’s shoulders, tight enough to stop him. “You know not what you do, Iron Man,” he said, still breathless from the kiss. He knew what he must look like, hair in disarray, eyes wide with shock and panic. But his hands stayed square on Stark’s shoulders, stopping him. 

“I thought you were supposed to be the bad guy,” Stark growled, hands clasping at nothing. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Not an unkindness, as it were. Vague enough to escape the filter of the spell.

“Not like this,” Loki spat, shoving at Stark.

And then Anthony was right in front of him, brown eyes looking hard up at him, narrowed. “I don’t know what you came here for, Loki, you... clever and well-organised planner. But if you expect me to stand here, with you this close, in that suit, and not tell you to fuck me, hard, now, I’m a perfectly honest, well-rounded individual.”

Loki’s eye glinted with what was undoubtedly mischief as he smirked down at Stark. “I gather your meaning,” he assured him, and pulled him into a kiss.

This kiss was less about shock value, more about need, desperate and hot. Loki could say with complete certainty that Tony Stark was every inch the excellent kisser he’d expected him to be. He smirked down into the kiss, teeth biting at Stark’s lip, fighting for control, fighting for every inch of the other man’s mouth that his tongue took. Anthony tasted of heat and scotch, a burning against the Æsir’s cooler mouth. It was fast, and hard, and desperate, and Loki found his fingers carding through Anthony’s hair, his hands running down his back, his arm looping around his waist to yank him closer into the kiss, until their bodies were against each other, aligned, demanding.

Finally, they pulled away from the kiss, breathing hard. Tony moved to trail wet kisses along Loki’s jaw. He bit at the sharp corner of his jawbone, painfully, salving the wound an instant later with a warm kiss. Loki sighed and dragged at Tony’s hair to get his mouth against his once more, desperately seeking his tongue. It was his turn to divest Anthony of his tie, and he untied it fully so as to not break the contact of the kiss as he pulled it from the smaller man’s shirt. 

Their next movements were a blur, a rush of suits and kisses and being pushed rapidly to Stark’s bedroom. Their suit jackets lay long discarded and Tony was expertly working down the buttons of Loki’s grey shirtfront. Loki kicked off his shoes and pulled at the hem of Tony’s own shirt, freeing it from those close-fitting trousers. Soon they were shirtless, fumbling at each other’s belts, and Loki’s calves bumped, finally, against the foot of Stark’s bed. He smirked against Anthony’s mouth and grabbed him by the belt, dragging him down on top of him onto the bed. Loki was staring at the arc reactor now, glowing bright blue and impossible to ignore further. His hand traced up Anthony’s chest. At the arc reactor, he glanced up. From the panic in Tony’s eyes, he decided it was best to skirt around it. He did, and felt, to his pleasure, Tony melt against him in relief, hips aligned with his and pressing with hard need.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Anthony breathed on top of him, looking down with heavy-lidded eyes.

Loki scoffed and bent forward, biting and sucking at Tony’s throat until the mortal was gasping. “My spell has its uses,” he sighed into the man’s hot, smooth skin.

Tony chuckled as he tucked a hand into Loki’s trousers, hand straying so that, as he freed Loki of the trousers, he was shuddering. “Spell? What spell?”

Loki frowned at him - that is, until, a moment later, Tony’s hand stroked upward along his member and closed around it, making him arch his back and press into Tony’s hand, eyelids fluttering. All thought soon vanished as Tony moved down, pulling off Loki’s pants even as he pulled at Loki’s erection, and, still grinning wolfishly, bent down to trail his tongue from base to tip, lingering at the tip for several tantalizing, frustrating moments until finally his lips closed around the head. Tony’s tongue swirled around his member as he slowly moved his lips down the shaft. And then, suddenly, he had enveloped all of him and was moving up and down, sucking and coaxing groans from the god beneath him. It was all Loki could do to not grab Tony by the hair and thrust into that hot wetness, but, taking a ragged breath, he fixed his eyes on the ceiling and focused only on Tony’s lips, his tongue, oh nine hells his mouth, until suddenly the heat was gone and Tony’s lips were against his once more.

Loki ached beneath him as he moaned into Tony’s kiss, hands fumbling at Tony’s trousers. Gritting his teeth in frustration at his lack of progress, he hooked a leg over Tony’s hips, placed a hand on his opposite shoulder, and flipped him neatly onto his back, pinning him to the bed with his hips and a hand at his wrists. Reaching down, he tugged off the shorter man’s remaining garments, smiling in triumph as he finally had Tony laid out before him. 

He rocked back on his hips, eliciting an arch of Tony’s back as he did, to admire the form on the bed. He would be lying if he claimed that this was not where he had wanted the evening to go. And now that Tony Stark, Iron Man, lay on his back, staring up at the Trickster God, the appeal of the mortal could no longer be denied. Hair mussed, eyes barely focused, splayed on the bed carelessly, he had never looked more alluring.

“I mean to take you, Anthony Stark,” he growled, voice low with lust and need.

Tony stretched his hands above his head, fixing him with the most charming grin he could manage, legs thrown open in abandon, something gorgeous in his eyes. “I’m yours.”

Loki smirked all the way back to Anthony’s mouth, kissing him gently this time as he fumbled in the nightstand.

“What’re you-”

“I will require oil, or some such product-”

“Don’t you have a spell for that?”

Loki fixed him with a look. “Not for that, no. It would be... depraved.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “And this isn’t?”

Loki answered with a hard kiss and a slicked finger circling his entrance.

Tony ceased talking rather rapidly after that.

Loki took some time working the other man’s opening, exploring, maneuvering, extracting little moans and gasps from that beautiful mouth. Loki took his time with the endeavor. He meant to leave the man sore and spent, but for all the right reasons. As his fingers opened him, Loki explored the rest of Tony’s body, tonguing his ear, biting along his throat, his collarbone, his shoulder. Finally he had three fingers inside of him and Tony grunted, “Fuck, Loki, fuck me already, you considerate angel.”

Making a mental note to tweak the spell to generate less bizarre compliments, Loki smirked and aligned himself between Tony’s thighs. A few more drops of the lubricant and Loki was at Tony’s entrance, looking down at him.

“You waiting for an invitation, princess, because I would love to type those up-”

And then Loki smoothly pressed his whole length into Tony, and neither were capable of much thought. Pausing a moment, Loki leant down to kiss Tony, a quick, frantic kiss. As he pulled away, Tony nodded. Loki began to thrust, slowly, setting a rhythm so slow and deliberate that it was infuriating.

But far more infuriating to Tony.

Tony writhed beneath him, pressing up against Loki with each achingly slow thrust, grabbing Loki’s hips, his arse, the small of his back. “Oh, come on, Wonderkin, fuck me. Please.”

Loki did.

He increased his pace, thrusting deep into Tony, leaning into him and settling his arms on either side of him, close, so intimately close. Tony’s knees were far apart, splayed open, lifted off the bed and toward him to provide Loki with better access to that hot, glorious entrance. He was hot and wet and tight, so tight. A faster pace was all but pulled from him as he gave into the temptation that was Tony’s body. Tony pulled an arm around the small of Loki’s back, holding him tight, the other clawing into the back of his shoulder. Tony’s mouth was at his, tongue thrusting into his mouth, and then he was gasping into the crook of his neck, ragged breathing to every hard thrust.

“Oh God, Loki, fuck, I’m close-”

Loki gritted his teeth and nodded, he hadn’t thought it possible to go much faster, but then he was, pounding into Tony with slaps that were both obscene and satisfying. Tony forced a hand between their bodies to fist his own eager erection, eyes shut with the pleasure, groaning into Loki’s ear.

He felt Tony clench around him as he came, thick ropes of release shooting over his stomach, over the arc reactor. Loki allowed him no pause as he rode out the orgasm, the heat building in the pit of his stomach signaling the nearness of his own release. It was all building fire and yielding flesh and fingernails and teeth and tongue and quick breath, faster and harder until he came with a shout, grasping Tony as an anchor through the waves of pleasure that coursed over him. In the aftermath of orgasm, he stayed clutching Tony for several long moments, the only sound their ragged breathing. Finally he pulled out of the very-well-fucked other man and collapsed next to him with a sigh.

More long moments later, beside him, Tony sat up, stood, retrieved several indulgently soft washcloths, and cleaned them off. Settling back onto the bed, he fell beside Loki, head on his shoulder, arm flung out across his chest. Loki wondered for a moment what to do with his hands, and settled on laying one across the smaller man’s waist, the other carelessly above his head. They fit together marvelously, something that Loki would not allow himself to remark upon when they would inevitably part ways.

They lay together for a long while, speaking no words, dwelling only in the comforts of another body and the very recent memories of fantastic sex. Finally Loki extracted himself from beneath Tony and began the long process of salvaging his clothing. As he dressed, he felt Tony’s eyes upon him, watching him from the bed.

As he moved to leave, Loki turned back to Tony Stark with something akin to sadness. The urgency of Tony’s body no longer confronting him, it was far easier to hate himself for what he’d done to an ensorcelled man.

He cleared his throat and said softly, “Are you still under the effects of my spell?”

Tony smirked. “You tell me, asshole.”

Loki chuckled at that. It was far easier than the alternative. “I could not have forseen the effects of the spell upon sexual attraction.”

Tony sat up, a dangerous twinkle in his eyes. “Sexual attraction? Loki, there were no changes to my libido. Just my speech.”

As the implications of that sank in, Loki found himself staring at Tony Stark, mouth agape. The man had truly desired him? He supposed that the spell had been excuse enough for the both of them, but...

Loki simply blinked at him, entirely unsure how to respond.

The smirk that Tony met him with was altogether too familiar to the Trickster God. “So,” he drawled from where he lay tangled in the bedclothes. “Same time next week? I’ve got this machine I’ve been meaning to try, makes you speak only in German-”

Tony was left speaking to thin air as Loki cut him off by simply teleporting away. He could swear that he heard a now-familiar chuckle drift through the air as the air cleared, though.


End file.
